


let's be lonely together

by Summer_Pond



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilingual Character(s), Cultural Differences, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Japanese Culture, Language Barrier, M/M, Mild Language, Multi, Polyamory, Shklance Big Bang, Sven is Shiro's older brother, Touch-Starved characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Pond/pseuds/Summer_Pond
Summary: Shiro never quite integrated back into society after his time in the military. He’s haunted by the incident that took away his arm, isolated from the few people that he’s connected with. He’s in the process of taking over the lone street ramen shop his parents left behind -- trying to anyway.Keith never really understood himself, not knowing where he came from and what he was meant to contribute to the world. He desperately wants to just find his calling in life, wants to connect to others like he always dreamt of -- to be touched, to be kissed, to be wanted by someone.Lance only wanted to make a name for himself. He longs to fly free, above the small world he knew of and dip his toes into a limitless and expansive future. He never thought he would find kindred spirits on a summer night in Fukuoka.Surrounded by the scent of well-cooked food, dunked in the sea of yellow lights overhead -- they finally found the missing part in each of their souls.





	let's be lonely together

**Author's Note:**

> Shklance Big Bang 2017 contribution 
> 
> _Italic writing is in Romaji_ (Translations will be in brackets) 
> 
>   **Bolded words are spoken in English**
> 
>  
> 
>  [My lovely BB artist, go check their fabulous art out!](https://13bella.tumblr.com/)
> 
> A big thank you to [ Icarus](http://grafted.tumblr.com/) and my friend Kai for the translations.

 Shiro enjoys the quiet.

 

Excited that the train carriage was practically empty. The inevitable rush hour still ticked away, with only stragglers: individuals stumbling home after a long night, or early-risers who seemed to arise from the comforts of a bed. The hum of the train as it passed through stations was soothing, the blur as the outside surroundings blended seamlessly with the green foliage of the trees, becoming constant as the public transport went further out from the city. He found himself nodding off a few times, his head slowly falling downwards, heavy with sleep, only to catch himself every time and rearrange his posture until the next time his head drooped.

 

He decided to pluck out his earphones from his sweater pocket, and jab them in as he watched the scenes pass by. A podcast of a fictional Space expedition: protecting Earth from Alien forces flowed through the earbuds. He was roughly a third through the storyline, which twists and turns that had intrigued him enough to power through.

 

He had arrived to his destination with a startling realization his journey was over. He stepped out of the carriage onto the empty platform, walking down from the white concrete steps. He jogged down, the rapid shouts of the story during a heated battle played an energetic atmosphere that followed through his journey from concrete of the streets transitioning to dirt ground littered with trees leaves. The environment changed, from the smooth horizontal pane of the ground to something rough and coarse, and he puffed a little as he went up the hill, running up the stone steps. He could see monuments in the distance, littered in the surrounding with no one in sight for the eye to see.

 

At last he had arrived. He wandered through the quiet area, taking his earbuds out at the entrance and carefully placing them back into his jean pocket – making sure the earphones minimally tangled itself.

 

As he weaved his way through the stone graveyard, Shiro felt the white noise of cicadas chirping in the distance making him slightly unnerved, just a bit. He braced himself, treading quietly and lightly over the cobbled pathway, giving blanketing gazes as his eyes swept through the names, both hollow and still reddened until his sight rested on the Shirogane headstone.

 

Two of the names had been ripped from its reddened color, but two more remained. Sven had been here already, Shiro noted with the grave cleaned and the weeds trimmed. He pulled out the incense sticks, and lit them up, watched as small puffs of smoke wafted up and drifted into the air. The food was next, fruit, fresh from the market that Shiro had searched for, and placed in a bowl. He clasped his hands together, the coolness of the early morning made his metal hand chilled against his warm organic palm. Shiro began a prayer as he closed his eyes and gave his thanks to his ancestors. With barely any noise surrounding him, not even any birds chirping, Shiro found peace.

 

+++

 

His phone trembled in his pant’s pocket _bzzt-bzzt_ , vibrating against the thin material. He fumbled with the shopping bags held by both his hands and pushed them onto his high countertop. Shiro answered the call with a huff, catching the tipping bag that was about to spill its content onto the floor.  

 

“Hello.” Shiro replied, fixing up his recent purchases into the cupboards.

 

“Hey little brother.” Sven chirped back. “How’s my favourite troublemaker?”

 

“I’m staying quiet on my side, and honestly you’re more of an issue.” Shiro joked back, fiddling with the fresh produce he had gotten from the grocery store into the fridge. “How’s Tokyo?”

 

“Not fair, I haven’t been bailed out since I was a teenager.” Sven retorted, and Shiro could imagine his older brother rolling his eyes. “And Tokyo is great. Work has been decent, even if I’m sure they are trying to end me with the amount of paperwork they pile on me.”

 

“Hmmm,” Shiro murmured, picking out the glass containers filled with dried vegetables, “You are more suited to physical activity than staying in the office.”  

 

“Definitely, put me out on the field and let me run that program instead of setting up excel spreadsheets of business costs,” Shiro was already imagining the grimace that would have tugged down his brother’s face into a frown, a pen behind an ear - for practicality of course, cooped up in the office cubicle, with neat rectangular slots of bare walls and even more dreary atmosphere of numbing conversations and drones about work, work, work. “I think the only reason why I haven’t gone insane is when I get to relax on my smoking breaks and the nighttime drinking sessions with my clients.”

 

This time it was Shiro’s time to frown. “You haven’t quit yet.” The tone was tinged with curiosity but also with worry, as he cradled the phone in-between his shoulder and neck while he balanced the boxes of frozen food in his hands and opened the fridge door to put them in.

 

“No, it’s not like I can go cold turkey.” Sven replied absentmindedly, “It’s my way of winding down.”

 

“Not a healthy way,” Shiro drawled shutting the door, “I’m sure your body is complaining.”

 

“Better than yours, isolating yourself from human interaction to a minimum.” Sven shot back, and instantly the mood changed.

 

“I’m not…” Shiro tried to establish, “I just prefer to be on my own.”

 

“Sounds like a load of excuses.” Sven retorted, an angry bite in his words, “You can’t just avoid everything and pretend nothing changed.”

 

“You think I don’t know that.” Shiro spat back, “Of course I know things have changed, you think I go to our gravestone for no reason?”

 

Shiro felt himself spit into his phone with irritation, silence coming from the other end.

 

“I worry about you Shiro. You know that right, you’re family.” Sven slowly spoke, trying to defuse the situation. “You know that Mother and Father would have wanted the best for both of us. Find a girl, settle down, start a family...”

 

Shiro bitterly sighed. “Is this your way of telling me I need to find a girl and marry her and please our deceased parents.”

 

“They would be happy to know that you settled down with someone, it would do some good for you to find a woman.” Sven noted with a trailing silence.

 

Shiro felt his blood boil, heated underneath his skin. “I can’t just find a woman, you know that’s not what I am, what I want.”

 

“This...facade is going to eventually break.” Sven hotly replied, “People are going to ask questions about you being single all the time.”

 

“Fuck those people,” Shiro grunted out, hearing the resigned sigh from Sven. “They don’t control my life.”

 

“You’ve changed.” The voice was softer, more tender and raw, “When you came back, I thought it was just the physical scars that remained.” Sven paused. “What happened Shiro?”

 

“Everything.” And nothing, Shiro thought to himself, he was always like this he wanted to explain. Not something that he ever wanted to deal with face-on but the unexpected deaths of his parents led to a quick work to that gradual plan of his family coming to terms with his...abnormal behaviour.

 

Now it was all, Shiro needs to marry, Shiro needs to find a woman to bed, Shiro needs grandkids to continue the Shirogane bloodline.

 

“Goodbye Sven. Don’t call again unless you can actually be reasoned with.” Shiro tiredly spoke, rubbing his left hand against his temple in exhaustion.

 

“Shiro don’t be like this, Sh-”

 

The click of the ended call reverberated in his ear, and he crumbled against the countertop, gripping the pane with anger. _He was content to be alone for the rest of his life,_ he muttered to himself, almost like speaking it any louder would make the promise dig the knife in his heart even further.

 

+++

 

The buzzing chatter and heat of the Summer was something that Shiro both dreaded and looked forward to every year. Cooking in a cramped space, with warm light bulbs illuminating the vicinity, bathing in the portable restaurant with a friendly atmosphere was the consistent schedule and environment he worked with.

 

Mist would smother everywhere, soaking his prosthetic arm with a light layer of moisture, leaving him to wipe it down every now and then. The pungent aroma of the dishes he made would waft out from the kitchen set-up, and float beyond the flaps of material hanging from the roof that billowed when a gust of hot wind would pass his street. Lights were everything he thought of whenever anyone would ask about his work.

 

Lights and good food if they asked to elaborate.

 

If people were still interested, he felt comfortable about explaining his methodology and expertise. Without hopefully scaring then off by his rapid fire of jargon and lectures about how to keep the egg at just the right amount of heat to keep it sealed when topping a dish. He looked forward to whenever a customer was favourable in igniting a conversation.

 

Sometimes, however, it was nice to cook in relative silence, to finish a steaming hot bowl of thin noodles drenched in a rich pork broth, with scallions scattered on rice strands and floating in the soup, topped off with an intact orange egg that made mouths water as he gave a wry smile just to see the silent excitement as a customer dig in with a phone in one hand and chopsticks in the other. But other times, compliments to the Chef lasted longer than a sentence and life-stories or tiny tidbits of anecdotes would flow through grinning mouths which always warmed his heart as he exchanged his own tales before...before his life changed forever.

 

He didn't like dwelling on the past, didn't like overloading a stranger with his blotted memories, not when the night was still young and precious and pure. So he kept quiet about details, tried to avoid any sore spots, holding his tongue whenever an opinion was raised that he disagreed with. It didn't happen often, but it when it did, he felt it was better if he withheld from arguing with his fickle investments. Not to mention their wallets spoke louder than their mouths.

 

Tonight was slow. The usual night rush that picked up after nine didn't engulf the shop. Instead he watched as the flap of the overheard material stay still and sleeping for several hours. The usual businessmen, students and occasional straggler weren't coming in, perhaps there was an event going on that diverted attention from his street (not that he kept up with the current trends and news of festivals beyond the nagging voice that spoke of 'business opportunities').

 

 _"_ _Sumimasen, dare wa tasukemasu ka?"_ (Sorry, can anyone help me with something?) The question was asked with some hesitation, as the overhead flap was lifted and a head popped in, vowels not quite sounding right. Shiro absentmindedly nodded, still engrossed as his fingers flew over the screen in rapid succession as letters were punched in, watching as the message was sent. When the notification was successfully sent, only then did he lift his head. His grey eyes raised to peer at a potential customer, mouth opened ready to answer the stranger before he stopped. And stared.

 

He didn't mean to be rude but the man in front of him seemed to capture his breath. The stranger was nervously rubbing his fingers across his neck, nails short and unevenly shaped, black hair with sharp bangs that swept along a pale neck and sprayed out into thick strands that layered itself over thin shoulders wrapped in a molten red well-worn jacket that clung to a black layer of cotton. Glossy lips with a hint of teeth poking out as the stranger's bottom lip was nibbled and an averted gaze of amethyst that struck something to stir inside Shiro.

 

His throat clogged up, and he blinked several times watching as the bottom lip of the stranger tightened, the plumpness of the reddened flesh pieced by bright teeth in agitation.

 

 _“Nn_ ” (Yes?) Shiro hoarsely answered, not quite knowing why he decided to reply to a question with his own.

 

The stranger scrutinized his purple eyes over Shiro's form, eyebrows knitted from the the latter's prompted query, _“Sumimasen deshita. Tokyo e ikimasuka?”_ (Sorry. How do I get to Tokyo?)

 

 _“Tokyoe? Koko de?”_ (Tokyo? From here?)

 

“Hai.” (Yes) The reply seemed to be gritted out, before he stranger caught himself and loosened the tenseness of his forehead. A softer statement followed, gaze following the frown on Shiro's face.  “Yūgata made ni Tōkyō de nakereba narimasen. _"_ (I must be in Tokyo in the evening)

 

 _“Eh? Hontou ni?”_ (Seriously?) Shiro replied bluntly watched as the stranger made a sullen face, corners of the red mouth turned downwards in an instance. _“Kokokara, Tokyo e iku niwa han’nichi kakutte totemo ikanai…”_   _(It’s impossible. From here it’ll take you half a day to arrive in Toyko)_

 

 **"Are you shitting me?"** The stranger muttered out, the foreign words grated out with anger, disorientating Shiro. While he couldn't grasp the exact meaning, the tone behind the sentence spoke of resentment and the gentle slap of a palm against a forehead was an universal sign of resignation that Shiro picked up.

 

 _“Ima yasumaba ii no ni. Asa ni densha ga demasu.”_ (It would be better for you to rest now. The trains leave in the morning) Shiro gently replied watched as the stranger kept a tight-lipped response. The other man blew a hot breath, bangs swept up for a second, head tilted back with eyes stared at the ceiling almost with a hidden desperation.

 

 **"Fan-** **_fucking_ ** **-tastic."** The stranger mumbled, before his eyes widened and he remembered the audience in front of him. “ _Ashita made matsu koto ga dekinai_ .” (I really can't wait until tomorrow) The hasty apology slipped out as the man straightened his spine and began to politely bend down for a bow. “ _Gokurou sam---_ ” (I appreciate your hel--)

 

_Rumble_

 

The sound emitting from the stranger's stomach stiffened his actions. From the angle that Shiro was observing, the tips of the stranger's ear had turned red. Shiro couldn't help but snort, capturing the wild eyes of the bending man who quickly lifted his head, embarrassment bloomed across cheeks.

 

 _“Ah,_ _gomenasai.._ _!_ ” (Ah… sorry) The stranger stammered out, hands clutched the traitorous growling stomach that continued its hungry song echoing in the room.

 

 _“Daijoubu yo. Sa,_ _Taberarete itadakenai deshou ka._ (It’s alright, really. Why don’t you eat first?) Shiro casually waved a hand, beckoning the stranger in.

 

Red flushing across the pale skin as an equally colourful glistening mouth opened up for a response. “ _Ah, chotto... okane ga nai....”_ (I-I don't have any money for that....) The confession trailed off into silence tinged with shame. Shiro deepened his frown, peering at the shifty violet eyes of the other man, watching as a hand swept across the inky curls, the sharpness of the small knob of the pale wrist seemed even more prominent against his black hair.

 

The man seemed so thin, and Shiro quickly took a glance at the rest of the stranger's body, clothes at a closer glance being spattered with flecks of dirt and thinning at edges, string fraying out from the pants, and rips and tears sprayed across the dark blue material. The outfit definitely had seen better days, and Shiro felt an overwhelming emotion of wanting to put a warm thick blanket over the embarrassed individual and feed him ramen. Lots and lots of ramen.

 

 _“Muryou..”_ (It's on the house) Shiro replied, the offer slipping out easily. He watched as the stranger widened his eyes, purple eyes lighting up by the thought of free food.

 

 _“...Hontou ni ii desu ka?_ ” (Is that okay?) The stranger tentatively answered, expression falling back to a default frown.

 

 _“_ _Iiyo.Kono yatai wa ore no kara.”_ (Considering I own the place, yes) Shiro smirked and threw a wink. He actually winked to a stranger! The night was turning out to be a surprise already. The raven-head seemed to instinctively bite his lip from Shiro's gesture and blush even further (if that was humanly possible considering how red the man was already). The stranger cleared his throat, walking toward the wooden bench and gently plopped himself on the stool, with careful eyes roving everything but Shiro. The Japanese man wasn't sure if he should be offended or flattered that he had this effect on the violet-eyed man.

 

 _“Nanio tabetai?_ ” (What would you like?) Shiro asked, breaking the steady concentration as the other Asian man scraped a fingernail over the table with nervousness.

 

 _“Nandemoii desu. Suki kirai ga arimasen._ ” (Anything is fine with me. I'm not picky)

 

 _“Jya, mazu, udon wa dou?_ ”(Alright. How about a bowl of Udon to start off)

 

 _“Nn,”_ (Okay) The man absentmindedly replied. A few seconds passed until he interrupted Shiro's train of thought. “ _Chotto--mazu wa dou iu imi desu ka?_ ” (Wait! What do you mean start off?)

 

Shiro turned his head around and tightened the apron around his torso. “ _Eh? Maa, deru mae ni hitotsu no shokuji ijou ga ii to omotteru yo.”_ (Hmm? Well, I think you deserve a little more than just one meal before you leave)

 

 _“Yarimasu?”_ (I do?) The reply was quiet and entrenched with surprise. Almost like no one ever gave a second glance to the man and that struck a chord in Shiro.

 

 _“Iiyo. Koukan ni, jiko shoukai wo suru. Konban wa tsumaranakattakara, shokuryou to hikikae ni kaiwa o suru koto wa ii to omou"_ (Sure? Why not? In exchange, tell me about yourself. It's been a slow night and I'm fine with having conversational company in exchange for some food)

 

 _“Hai.”_ (Okay) The other man swallowed, crossed his arms and looked forward just as Shiro turned his back to begin preparations for the meal. “ _Nani kiitai desu ka?_ ” (What should I talk about?)

 

 _“Namae wa?”_ (Your name would help out) Shiro drily replied.

 

“N _amae wa Kogane Kiisu desu. Hajimemashite.”_ (My name is Keith KoganeIt’s nice to meet you) The reply was soft, and Shiro had to pause to hear the name.

 

 _"Jya_ _Kogane-san_ _. Shirogane Takash da. Demo Shiro dake ga ii.”_  (Well Keith. My name is Takeshi Shirogane, but you can just call me Shiro)

 

 _“Shiro wa koko de umaremasuka?”_ (Were you born here Shiro?") The question was posed just as Keith changed his position, one hand propped across his chin, the other hand picking at stray threads of the black shirt underneath the leather jacket.

 

 _“Un. Shirogane ichizoku wa ooku no sedai ni koko ni iru kedo, ramen no mise wa jii-san kara hajimeta. Dakara, kekkou atarashii tte omowareteiru._ ” (Yes. The Shiroganes have been here for many generations but the family Ramen business only started from my grandfather so it can be considered still new)

 

 _“Aa.”_ (I see) The short reply seemed to stiffen the atmosphere.

 

 _“Doushite nippon ni iruno?_ ” (What brings you to Japan?) Shiro gently nudged the conversation active again.

 

There was a slow silence that seeped into the room, only being broken by the pouring of broth being poured into the ceramic bowl.

 

 _“Keitou ni tsuite koto wo sagashitai desu.”_ (I'm trying to find any information...about my roots…) The answer fumbled out, and Shiro felt curiosity bubble up.

 

 _“Keitou?”_ (Your roots?)

 

 _“..Iji desu._ "(...I'm an orphan…) The confession clenched Shiro's heart. “ _Keitou ya ryoushin ni tsuite koto ga sagashitai tame ni sekaijuu ni ryokou shiteimasu._ ” (I've been travelling around the world trying to to see if I can find anything about where I came from or my whereabouts about my parents)

 

 _“Ah, sore... zannen da. Warui koto wo hanasasete gomen.”_ (That's...really sad to hear. I'm sorry about making you reveal such personal information) Shiro apologised, stopped his cooking to give a sincere look at Keith. As the other Asian man stared at the wooden bench, trailing vague patterns with no set goal in mind of recognisable shapes.

 

 _“Daijoubu. Hajimete janai desu._ ”(It's fine. I've had all my life to explain my situation. You aren't the first) The hidden statement of 'You won't be the last' sank in Shiro's stomach.

 

 _“Onaji koto janai tte shitterukedo, ryoushin wa mou nakunatta. Dakara, ore ga chotto wakatteru. Kimi no keiken o mikubira seru wake de wa nai kedo, wakatteru . Kimi no kyuuchi ni tsuite.”_ (I know this isn't the same, but my parents passed. So I can somewhat understand. I don't mean to demean your experience, but I understand. A little about your predicament)  The comfort was offered to Keith who gave a small smile.

 

 _“Arigatō.”_ (Thanks) The raven-head said. “ _...Yasashii hito desu ne.”_ (You're...very nice)

 

Shiro snorted. “ _Yasashii wa chotto…_ ” (Nice is such a loaded word)  He chuckled just as he finished the Udon, carefully transporting it in front of Keith who seemed to visibly salivate at the bowl with wisps of delectable promises trailing upwards to flaring nostrils.

 

 _“Uwa, umasou desu yo!_ ” (This looks delicious!) The compliment sent warmth flaring in Shiro's stomach.

 

 _“Anata no._ ” (Dig in)

 

 _“Itadakimasu."_ (Let’s eat) Keith clapped his hands together, plucking his chopsticks and poked into the bowl, lifting up glistening noodles and sliding them down his mouth. Shiro watched the action with particular interest, as Keith's Adam Apple bobbed from a thick swallow. Keith gave a low moan from the food and Shiro shifted from his left foot to his right from the sound. “ _Ryouri wo suru ga jouzu desu._ ” (Your cooking is so good)

 

 _“Maa, sono mise wo aketa tame ni, kore wa negatteiru yo_.”(Well, I definitely hope it is if I want to keep the business open) He couldn't help but sarcastically answer, trying to stop his brain from progressing any further thoughts from the sounds that Keith emitted.

 

 _“Sou desu ne. Maa, kore ga imamade mottomo oishiimono no hitotsu desu._ ”(That's true. Still, this is one of the tastiest things I've ever had)

 

'Anything seems delicious if you're starving.' Shiro wanted to reply but he withheld himself. It might be a sore spot to point out Keith's financial situation so instead the Japanese man nodded, crossing his arms, bent over the table and watched. Keith continued to shovel food down, almost like a desperate madman that hadn't seen food for weeks. _“Mizu nomitai?_ ”(Would you like some water?)

 

 _"Hai, oregaishi.”_ (Yes please) Keith replied, mouth full with noodles, before he squinted and swallowed. _“Onegaishimasu._ ” (I mean yes please)

 

Shiro lifted himself up, grabbing a jug of cool water and a glass, the objects clacking as they landed onto the bench. “ _Douzo._ ” (Here you go)

 

 _“Arigatō.”_ (Thank you) Keith wrapped his hands around the handle and poured a generous amount of water into the glass, giving a hearty gulp, downing the amount in a single action.

 

 _“Daijoubu desu._ _”_ (No problem)  Shiro reverted back to his original posture, watching as Keith resumed eating. It didn't take long for the bowl to be emptied, as Keith lifted the piece and greedily drank the broth, smacking his lips as the bowl was drained. Keith almost seemed disappointed from fast he finished the meal, but he quickly schooled it to a neutral expression.

 

 _“Ah. Go... gochisousama deshita.”_ (I..uh..am really grateful for the meal..) Keith spoke, pressing fingers against the white ceramic piece.

 

 _“Motto tabete iiyo.”_ (You can have more)  Shiro said, lifting his eyebrows at Keith.

 

 _“Hontou?_ ” (Really?) Keith blurted out. “ _Iya, hontou ni ii desu ka?_ ” (I mean, are you sure?)

 

 _“Zettai ni._ ” (Definitely)  Shiro tapped his fingers on the bench. “ _Yuumei na Fukuoka Ramen wa dou? Koko ni ikeba tabenakya naranaiyo.”_ (How about the signature Fukuoka Ramen? There's no way you can visit here without trying it)

 

 _“A, onegaishimasu.”_ (If I can) The offer shyly being accepted.

 

 _“Iiyo. Ima yatteru.”_ (Alright. I'll start making it) Shiro turned around, beginning to gather the ingredients needed for the signature dish. And if he had a bit of a spring in his step from potential continued conversation from Keith...well. No one was wiser about his attempt at keeping Keith from doing something stupid like travelling at night to Tokyo from here. Perhaps he could direct Keith to a cheap hotel close-by that would take the other man at this time.

 

Or. A smaller voice in his head that whispered about offering his own place as a potential place. Shiro tried to squish that thought quickly. He was already feeding Keith. Offering a shelter under his roof was pushing it. What was next?

 

Half-way as the meal was being completed, the overheard flap was lifted again. _"Konnichwa! Kono resutoran wo akemasu ka?”_ (Hello, is this restaurant open?)

 

A potential customer. Shiro let the newcomer distract from focusing on thoughts about actually rolling around the idea of proclaiming his home as a place to stay for the night. After all, it was only slightly creepy since he had just met Keith. But something within Shiro just couldn't shake off clutched at his insides, almost like he completely felt he could trust Keith with his life even though the two of them had just introduced themselves to each other not more than fifteen minutes ago.

 

 _“Un, aite-”_ (Yes this is open-) Shiro began to speak until he saw the appearance of the newcomer and for the second time in the night he felt his breath swept away. The new individual was dark-skinned, that was first he noticed (it was a surprise considering Shiro didn't see many foreigners after getting back to Japan), with clear blue eyes that peered at Shiro with interest. The stranger was wearing a thin white shirt, that was rolled up to the elbows, revealing more tan skin, with a navy tie that had been loosened near the collars, coupled with a black leather belt that held up dark dress pants.

 

Two gorgeous men in one night? That was going to be too much for Shiro’s sensitive soul, a flutter going through his throat from how candidly the new individual dropped into an empty seat and made himself at home, wiggling on the stool. The tan man grinned at Keith, pearly whites flashing in exaggeration and humor and Keith frowned.

 

 _“Nanika tetsudai shiyou ka?”_ (Can I help you?) Keith slowly articulated, seemingly not used to the peculiar stare that was been drilled into him as the stranger yawned and waved away.

 

 _“Sumimasen, o tsukaretakara chotto atama ga gangan suru.”_ (Sorry, long day, I’ve forgotten how to human properly)  The stranger blinked a few times, _“_ _Hazukashī koto o iwa reba kinishinaide_.” (Don’t mind me if I say anything embarrassing, it’s the tiredness speaking)

 

Shiro caught himself from snorting in amusement, and instead focused on starting Keith’s order. _“_ _Kyō wa nani ka hoshī?_ ” (What can I make for you tonight?) He called over to his shoulder. The new arrival perked up and lazily shrugged.

 

 _“Kare to onaji kudasai.”_ (Just whatever he’s having thanks)

 

Keith stared back almost offended that the newcomer was intervening on atmosphere brewing between Shiro and the latter, pressing his gloved hands together under his chin and turned away.

 

Shiro hummed back, easing into work-mode, letting his hands fly around his station, picking up the necessary ingredients into the next order. He kept one ear open to the two individuals behind him, haphazard conversations edging through the billowing mist.

 

 _“Ima benkyō-chū ka hataraku ka?”_ (Are you studying or working here as a student too?) The stranger asked, prodding the beginnings of a conversation at Keith.

 

 _“Dōshite ore ga gaikoku hito o sasshita ka?_ ” (Why are you assuming I’m not from here?) Keith confusedly asked.

 

 _“Mā… omae,_ ” ( Well) The dark-skinned man poised a finger to his lips,  “ _Ore ga kita toki ni zenzen ki ga shinakattakara, sugoi sonkei ga aru ka gaikoku hito o miru koto ga ōi. Sā, kiite mo ī ka, doko kara kitaka.”_ (You didn’t react at all when I came in, and that’s either you have some fantastic social etiquette or you’re used to seeing foreigners around. So where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?)

 

 _“Amerika kara kita.”_ (America) Keith coolly answered, expecting it to be the end of the interrogation. Instead, the stranger’s eyes lit up.

 

 _“Hontō, ore mo Amerika kara kita yo. Mā, kazoku wa mazu kyūba kara kite, sonogo de hikkoshita.”_ (Oh cool! I’m from America too! Well my family was from Cuba first and then we moved) The newcomer gushed ecstatically, waving his hands around and the language rapidly changed. **“Are you currently studying abroad or something?”**

 

 **“No, I never finished High School.** ” Keith stoically remarked and the stranger’s face fell.

 

 **“Um, I see…** ” The tan man stammered, “I **mean College is overrated, I’m putting myself into student debt for just the possibility of a stable job. Not really best idea, but the McClain family does not have the word ‘surrender’ in their dictionary.”** The man paused, before uttering, “ **I’m Lance by the way, Lance McClain.** ”

 

 **“Keith Kogane.** ” The raven-head tugged on his gloves like an embarrassment tic. “ **You’re quite fluent in Japanese and English.”**

 

 **“I can say the same to you.”** Lance cracked a smile, **“Although I’m a native Spanish speaker too and I’m also brushing some other languages on the down-low too.”**

 

Shiro frowned throughout the verbal exchange, his English skills were shoddy at best and he could understand bits and pieces from the conversation. All that was prominent from the talk was the stranger’s name.

 

 _“Ransu to itta ka_ .” (Lance, did you say) Shiro turned around with the two finished bowls, placing each one in front of their respective owner, “ _Namae ga tadashiku kikoetara?”_

(If I heard your name correctly?)

 

“Yeah! That’s me,” Lance replied smoothly, **“Do you speak English too?** ”

 

 **“Um, not as good, just a little,** ” Shiro pinched his organic fingers together, “ **I served some time overseas which is where I picked up some English.”**

 

 _“Omoshiro-sō ne, ja ima kono kawaii yatai ni hatarakimasu.”_ (That sounds interesting, and now you’re running this adorable Yatai Cart) Lance blew out a breath onto a spoonful of his soup and sipped it carefully, “ _Uwa, umai! Gochisōsama!"_ (Oh this is very nice! Compliments to the Chef!)

 

 _“Kono yatai ga `kawaii' tte kiita koto ga nai…”_ (I haven’t heard someone call my workplace cute before, but I guess foreigners have a different perspective on things) Shiro spoke, stopping when he saw Lance’s forehead crease just a little, _“Mā, gaikoku hito no iken wa chigau ne. Ī koto dji ~yo.”_ (I mean that in a good way of course) Shiro hurriedly added.

 

 _“Daijōbuda._ ”(Nah, it’s good my man) Lance waved his hands, “ _O sake ga suge ̄ hoshikatta, shigoto-chū ni. Asahi o ichi-pon kudasai?”_ (I’m just really craving something alcoholic after today. Could I get a bottle of Asahi thanks?)

 

 _“Mochiron.”_ (Of course) Shiro pulled under the counter and grabbed the aforementioned beer, placing the top near the edge of the table before pushing his hand down and popped the lid off in one smooth movement.”

 

Lance whistled, and that sent the tips of Shiro’s ears to heat up. With a flourish, Shiro sent down the opened bottle and Lance cupped the container and drank generously, finishing his gulp with a delighted sigh.

 

 **“God, that hits the spot.”** Lance breathlessly remarked, wiping droplets on his lips with his hand, sweeping the liquid across his dark skin. “ **You look like you could have one dude, I’ll pay for it if you want.”**

 

Keith flushed, seemingly feeling a sudden guilt from Shiro’s already generous offer, **“Look I appreciate it but I’m good. Really.”**

 **“No I’m serious, don’t think I have an ulterior move,”** Lance pinked in his cheeks, “I **mean, it’s a no-strings attached offer, just enjoy the drink and meal.”**

 

Shiro chuckled, muffling his laughter by his left hand as the antics of the two foreign men sent him grinning. He might not have understood everything that was being said, but the wild gestures and the varying expressions on each man told a story nevertheless. “ _Ransu wa nani yaru ka? Kui to nomu koto o kiita ka?”_ (What is Lance trying to do? I heard something about drink and meal?) Shiro intervened, looking expectantly at the two men.

 

 _“Daijōbu yo, ke~īsu ni bīru ageru._ ” (My good man, get Keith here a beer. I’ll pay for his share) Lance jumped in before Keith could get a word in. _“_ _Ore ga ogoru yo. Kaesu koto ga hoshīnara, shi ~yabetemoiiyo.”_ (Just pay it back if you really feel like you’re in debt by your conversation)

 

Keith mumbled something in his hand, gathering Lance’s interest. The blue-eyed man cocked his head, “ _E, nani itta no?”_ (Sorry what was that you said?)

 

Biting his bottom lip, Keith huffed, “Kore wa ni-kai.” (Just that this is the second time this night that’s happened) Keith gestured with his head to the Japanese man, “ _Shirō wa koko ni saisho no, kare wa sudeni watashi o jūden sezu ni tabe sasete iru.”_ (Shiro here was the first, he’s already letting me eat without charge)

 

Lance cracked a smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. “ _Kanari no otokonoko-tachi ga, subete no meritto o ete iru.”_ (Pretty boys sure get all the benefits) He stopped the bottle from touching his mouth and grimaced. “ _...Watashi wa chōdo sore ga ōgoede wanaito watashi wa itta?”_

(...I just said that outloud didn’t I?)

 

Keith snorted into his gloves, his body shaking as he avoided Lance’s pout. Shiro cleared his throat and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

 

 _“Tada watashi o mushi shite,”_ (Just ignore me) Lance covered his hands across his eyes in shame, “ _Watashi wa nani mo iwanakatta.”_ (I said nothing)

 

Keith took his chopsticks and attacked his piping hot meal, twirling the sticks until he picked a hefty portion of the noodles and pushed it in his mouth. He shrugged nonchalantly, and Lance perked up from the silent challenge. The darker-skinned man picked up his own utensils and dug into his food, chomping down the delicious food all while keeping one eye on Keith’s intake.

 

Shiro rolled his eyes, the two of them just met and already there was some food rivalry occurring. “ _Anata no shita o yakanaide kudasai.”_ (Don’t burn your tongue please)

 

Too late. Both of them blanched as they individually scorched their mouth muscle on the steaming soup. Shiro poured out water in a cup for each man and pushed it to their desperate hands who grabbed the glasses and drank the cold liquid in one gulp.

 

 _“Koreha kyōsōde wa naku, tabemono o tanoshimubekidesu,”_ (This isn’t a competition, you should be enjoying your food) Shiro admonished watching as Keith and Lance go pink at the accusation from the Japanese man, “ _Yukkuri shite iku.”_ (take it slow)

 

The two of finish their meals slowly. Lance pats his stomach, and gingerly wipes his mouth with a napkin. Keith drinks his water and Shiro can’t help but watch the water trickle down his throat.

 

Lance slaps down money and Keith almost looks embarrassed at the fact that he’s not paying. The darker-skinned man looks satisfied, but almost sad at the fact the time finished so quickly.

 

 _“Sōdesu."_ (So that’s it) Lance says and he looked saddened by the end of meal. “ _Shokuji to hanashi o arigatō."_ (Thanks for the meal and the talk)

 

 _“Oyasumi.”_ (Have a pleasant night) Shiro states even though he feels equally sombre on the departure.

 

 _“Oyasumi.”_ (You too) Lance says softly, to both Shiro and Keith. He looks around, his eyes roving the two men. Pausing and looking thoughtfully. However, after a few seconds, he gets up. Leaving only his presence in the wind as he disappears from the night.

 

Keith fidgets in his spot and Shiro feels the tension cloud the room.

 

 _“Heya ga hitsuyō ka?_ ” (Do you need a place to stay?) Shiro blurts out, the offer slipping from his mouth in haste.

 

Keith froze. His shoulders hunched up, his eyes widened. But he relaxes a minute after and tenderly utters, “ _Onegai_.” (Please)

 

Shiro can’t find it in his heart to turn away Keith. He’s not sure why, or how these new-found feelings trail from. Both all he knows is that he wants to shelter this stranger.

 

 

 

+++

 

Shiro awakes to the smell of a meal being prepared. It’s pungent and rich as it floats into his room, and he stumbled out, still half-asleep using the walls as guidance to the kitchen. Keith is whistling a tune, something fast-paced and jumpy and Shiro can’t help but rest himself against the wall and watch as Keith hurries around, checking pots and tasting the contents. It had been several months and the Korean man seemed to have caught on very quickly on what to do and how to do it well. Shiro would like to say he was impressed (and a little smug inside about how much of a good teacher he was). Keith was an eager pupil, respectful and caught on quickly to what exactly was needed in every dish, what temperature some ingredients needed be kept while others were fine to be used with minimal preparation.

 

“You’re doing well.” Shiro compliments as he leans against the door frame.

 

“I’ve been taught well.” Keith answers into the room as he focuses on the boiling steel containers in front of him.

 

“I’m glad I decided to teach you. You’re a natural.” Shiro compliments proudly.

 

“Thanks.” Keith awkwardly responds, not sure what to do with the glowing compliments. The Korean man returns to his dish-making and Shiro hums noncommittally.

 

But there’s something buzzing under his skin, a tension that wraps around and coils his muscles whenever Keith looks at him. Like the other man knows.

 

Knows that Shiro’s heart clenches a from every small smile, every scrunched-up look, and every exasperated sigh Keith lets out.

 

It’s always been there. Even when they first met, it was simmering underneath, and now every week and month that had progressed had even further the deep feeling that had curled inside Shiro.

 

Sometimes Shiro thinks Keith catches his eye purposely. Or maybe that’s his brain overreacting. The close proximity doesn’t make things easier. Shiro has to pull himself together most of the time when he stares a little too long.

 

Shiro also knows that this happens when he’s around Lance as well. It burns him. The knowledge that there are two men with him harbouring an unwavering attraction scares Shiro. He knows he’s strange already, being drawn to men than women. But two people at the same time?

 

He knows Sven would be disappointed. As much as Shiro says that he doesn’t care for family traditions he feels slightly empty. Desperately trying to cling to something that reminds him of familiarity and comfort. Something buried in the depths of his mind that is blurred and sunken amidst the chaos and turmoil that ravages his sleep.

 

He feels calm when he talks to Lance. Soothing, with the way the foreigner holds himself, his head held up high and his eyes always sparkling, and his mouth animatedly retelling a story from his homeland of Cuba and his experiences in America.

 

He could probably spend hours just listening to Lance ramble on. Countless tales flowing from Lance, rich with jokes and insightful reflections. Hearing Keith snort from the background and adding snarky remarks would make the scenario complete.

 

His heart longed for something like that. Something stable and loving.

 

Was it ever possible? Shiro shook his head every time the thought crept up to him.

 

Better to have never loved than to have lost love.

 

+++

 

“I think I want to stay here.” Lance says one day when business is slow.

 

Both Keith and him freeze from the declaration, superfied from Lance’s words.

 

“What do you mean?” He asks when his mind starts churning.

 

Lance swallows, suddenly shy. “I mean. I want to stay here. With both of you, instead of moving back to America.”

 

Keith coughs, seemingly still stunned. Shiro feels his tongue heavy in his mouth. An emotion stirs inside of him, warm and floaty from Lance’s soft words.

 

“You do?” Keith’s question is tender, a raw emotion that flows out and engulfs the room with a heightened tension.

 

“I might get homesick. I’m sure Pidge and Hunk would miss me a ton. But I’m sure Allura and Coran wouldn’t mind my constant presence.” Lance nervously scratches the back of his head. “But well, considering they’re the ones who offered the job, they must like me.”

 

“Congratulations?” Shiro mumbles, not knowing what to say. He’s still turning the heartfelt confession Lance just dropped in his head.

 

“Thanks.” Lance smiles and the gentle smile makes both Keith and him flush a little from how emotional the simple action exuded.

 

“We could have this forever.” Lance states. Hesitant at first, worry stuck to his statement, but it’s renewed with confidence as he repeats. “This, whatever, _pull_ that exists between us.”

 

Keith sucks in a breath, his eyes narrowed. Whatever this magnet effect that draped over them never really was ever discussed, just instead silently acknowledged between each other. Now that Lance shoved the situation into focus, there’s a burning fuse lightened up, rapidly being eaten up by every ticking second.

 

“Do you mean…?” Keith founds that he keeps stumbling over his words. “Like...as in what I think you’re referring to.”

 

“Yes.” Lance sighs wistfully, “Yes I mean _like_ that.”

 

Shiro finds his throat tightening up.

 

Keith aggressively stalks closer to Lance, keeping a level stare before turning to Shiro at the last second. “Let’s close up.”

 

“It’s still a bit early..?” Shiro responds, a natural answer to this unnatural situation.

 

“Would you rather get fuck here or at home?” Keith retorts and both Lance and Shiro perk up their heads.

 

“Home, definitely.” Shiro founds himself almost smiling from the different direction this night is heading.

 

“Then get to it.” Keith admonishes, getting to work cleaning everything up rapidly while Lance looks with a curious stare.

 

They make it back to his home in record time. Their hands itching to tear clothes off, that only begins to occur once all of them make it past the door. It’s instant, hands gropping flesh, articles of clothing flying everywhere. Mouths latching onto free skin, bites littering across each person’s bodies as they stumble into his bedroom. Lance is a slow kisser. He’s tender and likes to nip at skin and suck and send sultry glances after observing his handiwork. Keith is everywhere, kneading muscle and explosive, with suffocating kisses that Shiro thinks he’s being drained of life. The two of them like to take their time to direct their attention to Shiro, and after he feels fuzzy from being shared by the two of them, they turn to each other. Giving the Japanese man some time to recover his breath as he watches the scene in front of him, heightened eroticism giving him coils jumping in his stomach.

 

Shiro finds himself being gently pushed onto the bed, with Lance and Keith on either side, looking down with devious smirks.

 

“Just relax okay. We’ll take care of you.” Lance promises, and Keith bends down to press a gentle kiss across Shiro’s forehead.

 

“Okay.” Shiro whispers.

 

The night is long and tender.

 

+++

 

It’s quiet. The whooshing sound of the train zooming through the tracks make little noises or bumps. It’s early, with few people sitting on the seats. The sunlight streaming in considering its emptiness and it was new. Usually the sheer amount of people blocked out the natural light and the artificial glow of the white lights from the ceiling and sides illuminated the carriages. The warm glow envelopes the area and the tranquility of the trip is comforting. But different.

 

The silence is unnerving.

 

The train pulls up to the stop, and the ground is wet. Sprinkles of rain drop from above but a ruby red umbrella stops it from drenching clothes. The smooth concrete splattered by water is slippery, but not as bad when the ground turns into dirt and mud stains shoes and puddles of water start splashing about with missteps.

 

The trail is winding, and harder when the rain starts hitting harder. Vision starts getting blurred by raindrops and wind that blows the liquid into eyes even with the help of the umbrella. But, it’s not an impossible task, and the journey only takes a little longer to achieve.

 

The cemetery is silent. Not even any birds are out. Granted it is raining and most people would rather wait for shower to pass to make the trek up the sloping mountain but today is special.

 

Special, may not be the exact term to describe it. Special suggests it’s exciting, something to look forward to.

 

“You’re a real piece of work aren’t you Shiro?” Sven says to no one.

 

He would have bent down to wipe at Shiro’s characters on the tombstone, but his knees would not have appreciated the pressure so instead he stood still, hearing the rain petter down until the water tapered off and the sun started to peek out.

 

“I’m getting old Shiro. My body doesn’t listen to me anymore. It’s a pain.” Sven confesses in the silence of the graveyard. “I miss you. Your partners do too.” He stops, pausing, looking over the gifts that had been left behind. Definitely his brother’s lovers had already visited and left their presence behind.

 

He never knew when the exact moment he understood that his meddling was not needed, but one day as he woke up from a bizarre hangover sprinkled with strange fever dreams, he stopped pestering Shiro.

 

And when his brother introduced both of his male partners, Sven couldn’t find the anger or resentment that often plagued his body whenever Shiro mentioned his preferences. Maybe it was a epiphany. Maybe it was just sudden realization that his distaste was overshadowed by the fact that Shiro looked happier than he had seen for a long time. The juxtaposition was startling and Sven could not. Would not be the reason for his brother’s unhappiness.

 

And so Uncle Shiro and Uncle Lance and Uncle Keith were introduced to Sven’s own children: Sakura and Satoshi.

 

His children adored Shiro and his boyfriends. They were fun, energetic and often eager to babysit if the situation arose. His children were curious, intrigued by their out of the ordinary relationship status, and in all honestly Sven found himself mulling over how it occured and stayed half the time. His wife was tolerant, not speaking much about the subject. But not extremely encouraging either. Sven wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

 

But it worked, strangely and everything was fine and happy.

 

Until the hospital visits started to get more frequent and much longer. Sven saw Shiro less and less. Not when his workplace was in Tokyo and management would not let him take leave. The bastards. He didn't visit in person until later, when the illness was ravaging his body and it was impossible for Shiro to hide the scars and shame and hurt that had attacked his body.

 

But he kept in-contact through online video sessions before the visits, with Shiro weakly smiling to the camera as the passing days turned into weeks, turned into months and the smiles transitioned from optimism to dread to acceptance.

 

Sven had seen the visibly heart wrenching defeat draining Shiro both emotionally and physically. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, to see his usually cheerful brother slowly get dragged under the waves of cold facts and science. Sakura and Satoshi sitting on the bed, blissfully unaware of the tragedy about to unfold as the months went past. Shiro’s skin going paler and paler each breathing moment.

 

He remembers one very vividly poignant scene, when he left the room to get some coffee. When he had returned, hushed whispers were flying rapidly around the room. Keith had been tucked on Shiro’s right as Lance flanked the left. They were embracing, their heads down and their grief being emitted in heavy vibes that Sven had stopped in his tracks and drank his coffee outside. Leaving the three of them in their moment of peace.

 

The funeral was small. It was also raining because of course, the Universe had to be like that. Lance and Keith had been whispering quietly to each other, their faces stricken with grief. There weren’t many people there, some of Shiro’s friends: Coran and Allura, whom were Lance’s boss’ but also made friendship with his brother had also came to pay their respects. Sven doesn’t remember speaking to them much, they left their grievances and had asked to be held in contact if he needed anything, which he admired.

 

Shiro’s assets had been transferred to his ownership, but he didn’t think it was right. So he made sure that all of Shiro’s things were being given back to Keith and Lance. The Yatai cart, the apartment, all of their belongings, it wasn’t _his_ to own. It was _theirs._

 

The two of them regularly visited Sakura and Satoshi, now entering their final year in University. His children had grown up to be energetic, outspoken and empathetic to people who were considered _lost_. Sven felt a sense of pride from that. His children, who grew up with an array of differing opinions made him proud. As they underwent great deeds and campaigned for a better life for people who deserved better, Sakura and Satoshi always referred to their Uncle as a beacon of hope.

 

They had a great role model. Sven was sure about that. Surrounding guardians who taught his children about challenging the morality of right and wrong, and deciding your future by your own hands.

 

“I hope you find peace, wherever you are Shiro.” Sven murmured into the air as his words drifted upwards to be caught in the wind and spread to unknown places.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> all good things have to come to an end. this is no different, as this will be my final upload to voltron, and as a result on this account. thank you for the memories, the good, the bad and the ugly. 
> 
>  
> 
> _"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”_  
>  **T.S. Eliot**


End file.
